The Huntress
by RealHutcher
Summary: It's about what Peeta and Katniss's life was like after they had children. They successfully hide their past from their kids until they become teenagers, but that's when their daughter, Rose, discovers their dark secrets.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

**I can feel it; hot breath on the back of my neck. My whole body is tense, waiting for its next move. Warm saliva drips down my back and I'm wondering if I can escape it, hoping maybe it will just leave and pursue a new victim, but it isn't going anywhere. It takes deep breaths and begins an aggressive snarl, starting low and becoming increasingly louder in my ear. **

**If I should try to run, it would certainly catch me and devour me before I could even scream. My heart feels like it is about to beat out of my chest when I find myself turning, facing the beast. I look it straight in the eyes and try to hide the fear that I know it already senses. How could it not? It's portrayed so obviously across my face. I don't try to hide it either. I couldn't even if I wanted to. **

**Its eyes are human, like many muttations I have seen, but what face do these eyes belong to? Glimmer? Cato? Little Rue? No. It couldn't be. The deep blue eyes I am staring at, the eyes I am beginning to get lost in are familiar, and then it hits me. My stomach begins to tighten as I feel the word coming up my throat and across my tongue.**

"**Peeta," I whisper.**

**And the teeth sink into my chest. Everything goes dark and there is only one thing I can think at this moment. **_**I'm dead. I'm dead. I've lost the games. I'm not going back home. I've failed Prim. I've failed Prim. I've failed Prim!**_

"**Prim!" I scream, and I jump from my slumber.**

"**Katniss! It's okay. I'm here." I hear a male voice say.**

**I look frighteningly around the room. My heart is racing. I'm drenched in sweat. **_**Where am I?**__**Where am I?**_** And I see him.**

"**Peeta?" I ask.**

**I'm looking Peeta Mellark square in the face. I am thoroughly confused for a moment, but then my eyes find his. He reaches out for me, and without hesitation I go into him. Peeta. My husband. Immediately, I begin to sob as I remember the past, the Hunger Games, the war, and the deaths of so many people, including my friends and more importantly, my sister. Even though this has become a regular routine in the Mellark household, the tears keep coming, and I don't try to stop them.**

"**Prim!" I bawl. "Prim!"**

**My body is shaking so intensely and I know that with every word I cry, I am in danger of waking the children, Rose and Macin. Naming my daughter was easy, Rose, after Primrose. Until her, I had never loved anyone as much as I did my sister. In fact, I didn't love anyone. Gale was my best friend, but I wouldn't say I loved him. If I had to love anyone other than Prim, he would have been my first pick, but nevertheless I could never grow to the realization of loving him. I couldn't love my mother, even if I wanted to. She left her children to die while she shut herself off from the world, pretending that nothing was happening, thinking that if she ignored reality it would just go away, but eventually, I forgave her for that. I know she was wrong, and I will forever be furious with her for her actions, but the Hunger Games made me realize that I should not live the rest of my life despising her. The day I came home from the games, I made myself be nice to her. I made myself respect her, but I never let myself love her, and I love Peeta with all of my heart now, but that itself took years for me to do. **

**This first child I held in my hands changed me forever. I looked into her sapphire eyes and at her silky brown curls, and I promised her I would never let anything bad happen to her, though I could not keep the same promise with Prim. Naming the boy was another story. I could not think of the right name for him. We thought of Finn, short for Finnick, and tried to think of a name that symbolizes Thresh and his courage, but didn't succeed. We even almost named him Mitch, after our drunken, but kind-hearted mentor. The names were good, but none of them felt right for the child that was living inside of me. **

**I could feel that he was going to be strong, like his father, but I could also feel his tiny heartbeat, so delicate. He gave me the warmest, happiest feeling I've ever experienced, so I knew that I had to give him a special name, a name that represents a special person. Cinna. It took months to come up with a name so unique, so beautiful to fit Cinna's personality. I wanted the name to please him, and one day it came to me, as if he whispered it in my ear. Macin. It was so different, yet charming, just like Cinna. **

"**Shhh," Peeta whispers, trying to comfort me, "It's okay. You're okay."**

**My head is lying on his chest. He is so warm, and his arms feel so protective as they embrace me. He is stroking my back, trying to make the quivering stop, but he and I both know it won't. We've spent too many nights doing this, trying to calm one another after a nightmare. One day I hope we will not have to do this routinely, but I know we always will. The memories of the Hunger Games will always haunt us. I'm positive, because even Haymitch still has trouble finding sleep. **

**I can't stop picturing Prim lit up like a candle in the town square of the Capitol, though. How could I? It was the most horrific scene I have ever laid eyes on, and that means a lot considering I've been in two Hunger Games. I'm so tired of these nightmares, mentally and physically. Every night I relive some horrible memory of the Hunger Games or the war or the insanity I faced after killing Coin, but I can't stop it. I can't stop these endless nights where I wake up and have to rack my brain for the painful facts. **

**But eventually the tears cease, like they do every night, and the shaking has turned into a mild trembling. Peeta kisses my forehead, and I look up at him. Our eyes lock as they have many times before, but even after all of these years, there's something about him staring at me that starts a fire in my body. **_**Katniss, the girl who was on fire, **_**I can imagine Cinna saying.**

"**Peeta," I start.**

"**Don't even, Katniss," He interrupts as he strokes my curly locks.**

"**But, I'm sorry. I can't believe I've done this again," I apologize.**

"**Listen," he says as he slides from his back to his side, facing me, and pulling me closer, "I'm always going to be here, on the other side of this bed. I'm always going to protect you and comfort you. I'm **_**always**_** going to love you."**

"**I know," I say softly, and blush as if I'm a teenager again, "And I'm always going to love you."**

**Peeta smiles, "Then what's there to be sorry about?"**

**I close my eyes. His words just fan the flames that I have already been feeling, and my body feels scorching. His lips find mine, gently at first, but then more intensely. No matter what the memory or what the nightmare is, Peeta Mellark always makes it better once again. When he was hijacked by the Capitol, I was so worried I would never be able to get him back. It took some time, but eventually he came back to me, piece by piece. He still has his weak spells from the venom, when he too forgets what is going on, but I do for him what he is doing for me now. No matter what the circumstance, I'll never lose the boy with the bread. **

**His lips are now on my neck and I'm running my fingers through his hair. It's soft and wavy and I find it difficult to keep my hands away from it on nights like these. He drags his lips across my neck and back to my lips, which sends a chill through my body. I have no idea what time it is, but between the nightmares and the comforting, I have a feeling we will not sleep much tonight. We never do. **

**We kiss more and I hold him tight, not ever wanting to let go; too terrified to let go. He presses his forehead to mine and finds my fingers, entwining them into his. His gaze is down, not looking at anything in particular, just set in a fixed position, but then his eyes find mine once again. Our lips are close, but they aren't touching. I feel the heat of his breath. We stay in this position until I've almost fallen asleep. As I close my eyes, I feel Peeta move to me once again. His face is pressed against mine, hands on my back, and his lips touch my ear.**

"**Real," he whispers, and he knows I know what this means.**

**Haymitch was right about one thing, I'll never deserve him.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**The sun is seeping through the shades on the windows, so I know it is morning now. Peeta is not awake yet, but he is still holding me tight, keeping me safe. I look at his face. Though he has gotten older, like all of us have, he still looks the same to me. I don't see the part of him that has aged. No, I only see Peeta, the boy who threw me burned loaves of bread in the rain to save my life; the one who walked onto the stage at the reaping, terrified, holding tears back in his light-blue eyes. Peeta Mellark, the one who declared his love for me in front of all of Panem. The one I love. **

**I turn my body over so I face him. He does not wake, but even in his sleep he won't let me go. I run my hands up his shirt onto his bare back, and rest my head on his chest. I listen to his heartbeat. One beat, two beats, three. I wish I could stay in his arms forever, so I close my eyes and try to make this moment last. We stay like this for a while, and for a brief second I feel at peace. I'm relaxed. Without warning, his heart begins to race. My body tenses up, and I don't dare move, because if it is the Tracker Jacker venom acting up he will surely crush me, kill me with his own bare hands. **

**His eyes shoot open. I don't say a word. He looks around the room and then down at me. I cannot tell if he knows who I am or not, so I stay silent, allowing him to think. I'm frozen, like prey before a kill. My fists are clenched and my body is tightened, bracing myself for what might happen next, but he just closes his eyes and buries his face into my shoulder. He knows who I am.**

"**A nightmare?" I ask, rubbing my hands up and down his back, immediately trying to console him.**

**He nods his head but keeps it down, not wanting to look at me. I know he is holding back the tears, trying to be strong for my sake, so I hold him, like a mother with her child. He is so strong, but can be so weak at times. I'm wondering what he dreamt but I'm not going to ask. I'm not going to make him relive a nightmare. I know how excruciating they are. Finally, after he lies in my arms for probably twenty minutes, he raises his head and looks into my eyes once again. I hold his face with both of my hands, rubbing my thumbs below his blood-shot eyes.**

"**We need to get up," he says choking back tears, but it is obvious he has already cried.**

**His face is red, and his eyes are puffy so I just say, "Okay."**

**We get out of bed and help each other get ready for breakfast. He buttons my shirt, and I comb his golden hair, kissing him on the neck when I'm finished. I don't know why, but I have always found this romantic. I love how comfortable I feel around him now, but it has not always been this way. As we're walking down the hall, I smell the scent of bread rolls, smoked ham, eggs, steamed potatoes, and lamb stew with dried plums. Effie's here. Sure enough when we walk into the kitchen, there she is, gripping a spatula with her perfectly manicured fingernails.**

"**Good morning everyone!" she says as she flashes us a toothy smile.**

"**Effie, you didn't have to do all of this!" I say.**

"**Oh it's nothing! I thought you two needed a break from housework, and Katniss, I love your shoes!" she gushes.**

**Ever since Effie married Haymitch, she has been our neighbor, lived in the victor's village with us. Even though she hasn't been to the Capitol in years, she still retains that ridiculous, high-pitched accent. I can't help but love her, though. She has helped so much with Rose and Macin over the years, and she has grown on me.**

"**Morning sunshines," Haymitch says gruffly as we walk into the dining room. He is clutching a bottle filled with clear liquid, but I know it isn't water.**

"**Haymitch," I say irritated as I take the bottle of spirits away from his hands, "I thought you were cutting back on the alcohol."**

"**I have been!" he objects, and I just roll my eyes and smile.**

"**Rose! Macin!" I call, and I hear little footsteps running down the hall.**

"**Good morning!" I say as I kiss them both on the head, swooping them up in my arms. Peeta comes behind me and lays his arms over mine, embracing us all. He puts his head on my shoulder, but says nothing. He is shaking just as badly as I was last night. I know his nightmare must have been unbearable. They always are.**

"**Morning, Mommy and Daddy!" Macin says excitedly.**

**Macin is five and Rose is seven. They are my pride and joy and I am so thankful that Peeta persuaded me to have them after all of the years I said no. This big house would be so empty without them, and they give me something other than my past to focus on.**

"**Let's go into the dining room," I say, "Uncle Haymitch is here."**

**I don't understand why, but my children love Haymitch, and even though he doesn't admit it, he loves them, too. I can tell by the way he looks at them, the way he talks to them. Haymitch has never taken much of an interest in anyone, until they came along.**

"**Uncle Haymitch!" Rose squeals as she plops down on Haymitch's lap.**

"**Oomph," Haymitch grunts, "Hey kiddo."**

**I laugh at the sight of how much Haymitch adores them. He plays with them, giggles with them, almost like a mere child himself. Peeta has gone into the kitchen to help Effie with our breakfast but I wish he would just sit down. He's in no state to handle a knife right now, but I let him, knowing forbidding him to cook would just make matters worse. The kitchen is his refuge when it comes to fear. It's as if all of the pain and sorrow goes away when he has a whisk in his hands. **

**After what seems to be an eternity, he returns to the dining room carrying massive plates filled with mounds of delicacies. French toast sprinkled with chocolate chips, cinnamon oatmeal with sour apples, and various fruits filled with different flavors of gelatin. He has bags under is swollen eyes, but he still manages to put a smile on his face for the children. **

**I just stand up to help him carry the plates when a searing pain registers on his face. His smile quickly vanishes and he cringes, dropping the dishes to the ground. They shatter, and he falls into the broken glass, slicing his hands and knees. The venom. **

"**Peeta!" I gasp as I reach out for him.**

**Without thinking, I grab him, trying to help. His head turns and he is looking at me with wild eyes. Before I realize it, his hands are reaching for my throat. I quickly back up, but slip on the food and shards of glass. He brushes by the table like a monster and I'm scooting on my hands and feet, trying to escape him, when Haymitch pins him against the wall. The kids are screaming franticly and I begin to cry once again. It hurts me to see him like this. This isn't my husband. It isn't Peeta. It's the muttation who dwells in my nightmares. He is not totally affected by the venom, though. It rarely acts up, but when his worst episodes happen, he goes back to the monstrous boy that tried to kill me in district 13, and the same boy is trying to kill me now.**

"**Peeta!" Haymitch yells angrily at him, "Snap out of it!"**

**Peeta is breathing hard and I feel so terrible for him. Haymitch has his arm pinned against his neck, almost choking him, but he has no idea what is happening or what he has done. Finally, the episode from the venom subsides and he begins to relax. He begins to remember who he is, who we are. I look at his frantic eyes and blank expression and I know he is racking his memory for the facts, probably remembering the Hunger Games, his family being burned alive, and every other excruciating thing that has happened since then. He now sees me on the floor, crawled up in a ball, pulling glass out of my bloody hands.**

"**Katniss."**

**It wasn't a question as if he is asking my identity, but more like a statement. He knows who I am now and he comes to me. I already see tears welling up in his eyes. He realizes what he's done. **

**Just as he reaches me, his arms go out to embrace me. Like a reflex, I pull away as he tries to grab me. By the expression on his face, I can tell he's hurt by my action, but I didn't know anything else to do. The last time I greeted Peeta with open arms when he was taken over by the venom, he rapped his hands around my neck and almost murdered me. I did not want to repeat that scenario, but I know I have probably killed him inside.**

"**Katniss, I- I," He stammers and he looks at his hands which are equally as bloody as mine.**

**I am still weeping, but I finally go into him. He starts crying too, no longer trying to hold it in. There's only so much he can do to stay strong, and everyone deserves to break down every once in a while. He holds my head to his chest and he puts his face in my shoulder once again. This is his safe spot. The place he can go to escape the past that haunts his mind. We stand there and bawl, and after a moment I hear a small voice speaking to Haymitch, asking a question with teary eyes. "Why did Daddy hurt Mommy?"**

**She and Macin are terrified by their father's actions, and he and I look at each other with the same thought. His face asks a question, **_**Should we tell them?**_** And I shake my head no, wiping away a tear rolling down his cheek.**

"**They're too young," I whisper in his ear.**

**He nods, because they are too young. One day we will have to tell them. We'll have to tell them why we come to the breakfast table with watery eyes and trembling hands. Why they hear our agonizing screams in the middle of the night. Why we are so strong, yet part of the time, scared of our own shadows. Why their Daddy hurts their Mommy sometimes, and why Peeta and I love each other, but not today.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**Years have passed since that awful morning, and Peeta has not been affected by the Tracker Jacker venom since. I'm not afraid of him, but it has been so long that I can't help but keep my guard up, just in case. I open my eyes and stretch, reaching my arms as far as they will go, and pointing my toes until they reach the bead frame. I'm wearing Peeta's shirt. Last night was amazing. I glance at him on the other side of the bed, the place he swore to always be, and I trust that he will keep that promise. His features are beautifully crafted, his hair so golden, his lips the shape of rose petals. As I continue to look at him, I decide that I can't keep my hands away from him any longer. **

**Just as I move closer his eyes flicker open, and he smiles. His hands go to my waist and he pulls me in tight. I grab his neck and bring him in for a long kiss. As Peeta begins kissing me more intensely, more romantically, I begin to think, **_**Today is unusually wonderful. I can hear the mockingjays singing in the forest, the sun is shining bright, and I didn't have any nightmares last night.**_** My husband and I keep kissing, laughing, loving each other, and then I realize, **_**I didn't have any nightmares last night… I didn't have any nightmares last night! **_

"**Peeta!" I say excitedly as I pull away from his supple lips.**

**He looks up at me and strokes my face. **

"**Yes?" He asks as he grabs my chin and pulls me back in.**

**I put my hand on his chest to stop him. "I didn't have any nightmares!"**

**He blinks his eyes a few times, registering what I've told him. They then widen.**

"**I didn't have any nightmares either," he says, and I can tell by his voice that he is just as shocked as I am.**

"**We didn't have any nightmares?" He asks.**

"**No!" I shake my head. **

"**We didn't have any nightmares!" He exclaims.**

**I'm smiling from ear to ear. My fingers find his and I press my forehead against his own. My dark eyes close and as if in a dream I whisper, "I'm getting my bow." My bow has been stored away in the forest for years. I didn't part ways with it because of the Hunger Games, in fact it probably eased most of my pain from them. No, I hid it away because of the children. **

**The second I found out I was bearing a child, I thought it would be the best thing to do, the best way to keep my past in the past, and start a new life, a better one. I didn't want my children to hunt. I killed for food when I was younger, and after having to hunt fellow tributes to stay alive in the arena, I thought it would be wrong for them to kill for sport. So I put it in the hollow log I've always kept it in, to stay forever, but now I have the sudden urge to retrieve it. I long to feel the arrow between my fingers once again, aiming it at my prey. I need to experience the feeling I used to get from shooting my bow one more time. This morning has been so blissful that hunting is the only thing I want to do. It would satisfy me more than anything else.**

**I open my eyes, coming back to reality. "Is that crazy?" I ask, laying my head on Peeta's shoulder.**

"**No," he responds as he kisses my temple.**

**He probably knows in his heart that hunting is the best thing for me. It will bring me peace.**

"**Watch the kids?" I ask.**

**He nods his head. I give him a quick kiss on his lips and get my hunting attire out. I start coughing when I open the chest that is filled with my old gear. It all reeks of mothballs, because I haven't touched it in so long, and I have to sweep away cobwebs to get to it. I hold up my father's hunting jacket and study it. I think of him and then of Prim because I know they are together now. My throat begins to ache, but I know today is no day for tears. I choke them back and pull the cloak on, then my boots. Peeta's watching me as I'm sitting in the floor, lacing each groove of the boot so tightly that they will not slip up and down on my feet. **

"**Bye," I tell him, and wave before I run out the door of the house like a child, happy and frolicking.**

**I get to the woods and take a heavy breath, breathing in all the smells of nature. The scent of pine needles is strong and rejuvenating for my exhausted mind. It feels unusual to come to the forest without a care in the world, but it's nice. I retrieve my bow from the hollow log. **_**Hello, old friend. **_**I smile at it. I have forgotten how great it feels to hold a bow, how empowering it feels.**__**I hike to the spot Gale and I used to hunt at. I stand silent for a moment, examining it. It looks exactly the same as we left it, preserved in time, as if we could've been hunting here this morning, like this has all been a dream and this is the day of the Reaping. We have to meet in the town square at two o'clock. We'll then find out who the tributes of the 74****th**** annual Hunger Games are.**__

_**It won't be Prim. This is her first year and she only has one slip of paper with her name on it.**_** I think to myself.**_** She only has one slip in thousands, and the odds of her being picked are near to impossible. The odds are entirely in her favor, and it won't be her. It won't be her. It won't be her. It won't be her!**_** Somewhere in the midst of my thinking, I have closed my eyes, repeating this sentence in my head, trying to erase time and go back to the day of the Reaping when I was sixteen and my biggest worry was putting food on the table. **

**For a moment, I start to believe myself. I start to think that today is the day of the Reaping and that Prim is at home getting ready, but she's not. She's dead. I knew I could not make it through the morning without crying, and so while I am in the woods, concealed by the trees, I bawl, letting out everything there is to let out. Yelling and screaming, sobbing, shaking. You would think after all of these years I would come to terms with my grief over Prim's death, but I haven't, and I have a feeling I never will. She was taken from me at such a young age. She had her whole life ahead of her. I was supposed to protect her. I was supposed to keep her safe, but I failed.**

**I'm lying on the forest floor, curled up like an infant, only wishing one thing, that I was with Gale. I miss him so much it hurts, so I sob some more. Why not? No one can see me. No one will know, but I'm wrong. Little blue eyes have been watching me from behind a cluster of bushes this whole time. Rose continues to watch me the rest of my visit in the woods also, as I get up and finally begin to shoot. I hit everything, birds, rabbits, even deer, right through the eye. I never would have done this as a kid, but right now I am so furious at the world that I leave them there. I care nothing for their carcasses today. Let them rot. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**As I am leaving the woods, I store my old wooden bow in the hollow log that my father always stored his in. I have wiped my nose so much from crying this morning, that it has begun to bleed. I taste it in my mouth, but I have become so accustomed to blood that it no longer fazes me. I just spit it out and move on, enraged for no apparent reason. My daughter stays hidden until I'm well up the path to our home. She then sneaks out of the brush silently and grabs the bow with her tiny fingers. She looks at it in awe, examining it piece by piece, and slings it over her bony shoulder, along with my father's sheath of homemade arrows. **

**After miles of hiking, she makes it to mine and Gale's spot and hoists her way up. Rose sits on the rocks for hours awaiting prey. Nothing appears. Night is beginning to fall and her eyelids are becoming like weights with every minute that passes. She strums the string of the bow with her fingernail, keeping herself busy, but she cannot stay awake much longer. Her little head bobbles from side to side but she cannot hold it up, and finally her eyelids close.**

_**Rustle, Rustle, Rustle**_

**Rose jumps at the sound of rustling leaves and she is now wide awake, adrenaline pumping. Night has fallen over the forest and it is pitch black. The only light she has to go by is the moon and the stars. She has been asleep for hours, and she knows it is late, but she's not moving. Not yet.**

_**Rustle, Rustle**_

**The noise appears again, but it's louder this time. She knows whatever is in the bush is coming closer.**

_**Rustle, Rustle, Rustle**_

**The leaves stir one more time, and then, silence. She can hear her own heart pumping, but she doesn't dare breathe. Quietly, she reaches for the bow, holding it to her face just like she watched her mother do. Her fingers creep across her shoulder and finger around the sheath until she finally grips an arrow. She strings it as best she knows how and waits… Then it jumps out. A rabbit. **

**She only catches a glimpse of it, and loses it in the darkness. Waiting. Waiting. And the moonlight catches its eye, making it glisten in the shadows. Rose releases the arrow and it slices through the chilled air, sinking into the rabbit's iris. A born Huntress. Rose gazes at the bow lying in her hands. She experiences the most powerful feeling she has ever felt. Total control. She can control if something lives or dies. She can control an animal's fate with her own bare hands, and oddly enough, she finds pleasure by seeing the bleeding corpse on the forest floor. A sinister grin crosses her face. My seven year old daughter is a killer. She contemplates sharing her prize with the family and me, but decides against it. She needs more practice for bigger game, and she knows I'll forbid it. So she slides the bloody arrow, slowly and easily, out of the rabbit. She hides it and the cadaver under the cluster of bushes she was in before. It can stay there until tomorrow, when she returns. She then hikes up the path back home with a new sense of pride, a new sense of strength.**

"**Rose!" I gasp as she walks through the front door.**

**She has been gone for many hours of the night and I have exhausted my mind trying to figure out where she would have gone or what might have happened to her.**

"**Where have you been?" I shout.**

"**Uh," she stammers.**

"**Where?" I demand.**

"**I was playing, Mommy," Rose explains. She plays the little girl card by calling me mommy. I think nothing about it, for she is just a young child, but she is smarter than that. She is smarter than I could have ever imagined.**

"**Don't ever scare me like that again!" I scold, breathing heavily and grabbing her tight. With teary eyes, I hug her and stroke her long hair. It is in two braids, just like Prim used to wear hers. My heart sinks to the pit of my stomach. I can't lose Rose like I lost Prim. I won't.**

"**I'm sorry. I didn't mean to," she sniffles, faking tears.**

**Something in my daughter changed when she released that arrow. Something she can never get back. It's like her youth vanished the second the arrow pierced the creature. Inside she is no longer a little girl. She is a predator.**

"**I know, I know," I say frustrated with her, "Just please be more careful from now on. Okay?"**

"**Okay," She agrees.**

**My head is on her shoulder, so I can't see her smirk. She can kill, and she's dying to do it.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**Rose has been practicing hunting many years since her first rabbit. She is now fourteen and can take down a massive deer with a small knife. She's built tiny, not tipping the scale at 100 pounds, but she is a monstrous hunter. She craves the death of animals but tells no one. She just wanders to the woods for a few hours every day and satisfies herself, shooting, stabbing, and eating creatures like a carnivorous beast.**

**She's so beautiful that you would never expect her to be a brutal savage. She wouldn't hurt a fly in the district, though. She's sweet and innocent and polite to everyone in town, picking flowers for them and baking them cakes. She's genuinely being kind, it's not a show, even though she can lie with ease. She loves our neighbors, and they love her too, although, that delightful girl does not exist in the forest. The woods are her playing field, and the animals are her targets.**

**She has characteristics of Peeta and me both in her, but I never would have killed with such aggression. She finds nothing wrong with it, though. To her, it's just hunting, but it's not. It's different. I enjoy hunting, but sometimes it even feels inhumane to me after being in the arena.**

**She walks into our home wearing a pretty dress she made herself. It's a simple frock covered in tiny blue flowers the color of her eyes, with ruffles on the thin straps. It's lovely, but resembles a reaping dress too much for me to feel comfortable around it. Her hair is in a curly ponytail pulled straight back. This is her trademark style just as mine is a single braid. She is holding a newspaper and a loaf of bread from her Father's shop.**

"**Hello, darling," I say as I kiss her on the forehead, "What do you have there?"**

"**A loaf of wheat and the **_**Capitol Times**_**," she says smiling, showing her radiant teeth.**

**She licks her lips and can still taste blood from the morning in the woods, so she drinks a glass of water to hide the evidence. I take the paper and flip through the pages, trying to find something worth reading. I don't particularly like the **_**Capitol Times**_**. Although President Snow is no longer reigning over them, the Capitol people are still simple-minded creatures who dress ridiculously and are richer than all of us combined. There is never actual news in these papers, it is more like a tabloid, speaking the latest gossip of the famous individuals of Panem. Who's dating who, who's wearing what. It's never anything important.**

**I'm famous in our country. I made it out of the Hunger Games alive twice and overthrew the Capitol, but I never get mentioned in their stories. The Capitol and the districts all have an unspoken agreement to never mention the Hunger Games, or the Rebellion, or the deaths of so many loved ones. It just brings back the pain that many of us still haven't been able to escape.**

**Right now, Cornelias Snow is dominating the cover page, dressed in a provocative golden suit with flashy sequins decorating her breasts. She has become the Capitol's sex god after Finnick passed, and with her perfectly glossed lips, brilliantly highlighted locks, and seductive body, who could blame them for being obsessed? Their small brains only care for beauty, so of course they are fans. Cornelias Snow is sexy and all of Panem knows it. **

**The only thing I despise about the young 23-year-old is that yes, she is related to our late President Snow. She is his granddaughter, the one that was suggested to be thrown into a Capitol Hunger Games during the Rebellion, but she didn't get thrown into an arena. No, she only gets thrown into pools of money and glitter. Nevertheless, she is not a heartless villain like her grandfather. She is just a lucky girl, who isn't very bright, that was born into fame and fortune, never having to worry about hunger, dehydration, or being reaped.**

**I turn to the next page to find a professional looking photo of Paylor, our current president. I first met her in district 8 at the hospital for all of the injured citizens. The war hurt all of them, like it hurt me. She looks threatening in this picture, wearing a solid black blazer and dress pants. She looks intimidating in fact, but I know she is protecting us all, keeping us from repeating the past. She has not allowed any chaos or fighting between the districts or the capitol since she took over presidency. I don't thoroughly enjoy her as a person, but as a leader, she is doing her job proficiently.**

**Rose has now slipped away to the upstairs of our home to brush her teeth, her tongue still tasting of squirrel blood. When she enters the bathroom, she primps like any girl would, scrunching her brown curls, about the shade of mahogany, filing her nails until they are of perfect shape, and even applying a thin layer of lip gloss that Effie gave her. She is not a monster. She is a 14-year-old girl, a 14-year-old girl who happens to have a disturbing urge to kill the residents of the forest, but she's still a teenager nonetheless.**

**After she is finished in the bathroom, she creeps into mine and Peeta's bedroom, trying to go unnoticed. She begins to rummage through the old oak chest where I store my hunting attire. Rose throws the leather boots out, then my father's coat. She is looking for something specific. After running her hand around the bottom of the chest, she finally gets a handle on it and pulls it out. She has my father's knife gripped tightly in her small hand. How she knew it was in there, I don't know, but she is very pleased that she found it. She studies the blade, flipping it over and over in her hands. It has a crooked end, perfect for gutting an animal. Perfect for gutting anything. **

**She begins placing every piece of equipment she has disturbed back into the chest so I won't notice anything is missing, but then something catches her eye. A book. My father's book. The book I owe my life to. I kept it because it is not only filled with key survival techniques, but memories of my father. Every time I open it, I feel his presence surrounding me. I can hear his voice talking about each plant in vivid detail. I can smell his scent coming off of every page. I look at that book and I'm home. **

**Rose opens it up, not sure what to expect, and she finds herself fingering through photos of plants: mushrooms, berries, wild grass, various types of leaves, dandelions, and katniss. She has sat in the floor, reading each page thoroughly, and then she reaches the last one. Newspaper clippings fall to the floor. She picks them up. **_**The 74**__**th**__** annual Hunger Games**_**, the header reads. She starts to read more of the carefully cut newspaper. She reads many different headlining stories of the Hunger Games. How I shot Marvel. How I adorned Rue in a blanket of wild flowers. How Peeta and I almost committed suicide by eating nightlock, and most importantly, how we both escaped the arena as victors.**

**She looks at another clipping that is lying on the floor. **_**The 75**__**th**__** annual Hunger Games**_**. Then others. **_**Uprising in the Districts**_**. **_**The Rebellion**_**. The papers keep coming. Rose sits in the floor for half an hour reading about who I have killed, all the outrage I have caused the Capitol, and the war I led as the Mockingjay. **_**Katniss Everdeen is the Girl on Fire!**_** the words say. Rose clenches her fists in anger.**

_**My parents won the ultimate Hunting Competition**_**, she thinks in disbelief.**

**Her disbelief then turns into fury.**

"**My parents won the ultimate Hunting Competition," She whispers in rage.**

**Rose's knuckles have turned white from being squeezed so tightly. Her mother was the Girl on Fire, and she finally knows it. **

_**Now I know why the bow was a secret**_**, Rose thinks.**

**She slams the book shut and holds her prized knife in front of her face, examining the crook at the point of it.**

"**The Hunger Games, hmm?" she says atrociously as she strokes the blade with her finger, pulling at the top which sends blood flowing.**

**She now knows the truth of my past, but she won't dare tell me. She shoves the book under the worn-out cloaks and walks out of the room, tucking her knife in her boot, lips sealed.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**Several months pass in the sleepy district of 12 and Rose continues hunting, improving her kills each day, becoming more savage. She is sitting on the rock ledge where I used to hunt with Gale, chucking knives at squirrels, thinking of the Hunger Games.**

"**It would be so easy. Only twenty-three people to kill. I'm made for a competition like that," she says to herself, "I'd be perfect for it."**

**After wasting away the day picking off every defenseless creature that passes, Rose eventually climbs down from the boulder.**

"**She doesn't even know I can use a bow. She thinks I'm incompetent with a knife. She takes me for granted!" she says angrily, throwing a dagger directly into the heart of a bird flying overhead. **

**Rose is dying to talk to me about the Hunger Games, but she keeps it bottled up inside. She knows it must have been bad, but she hates that I haven't even tried to tell her about it. I couldn't. She's a child. She would never understand everything I have suffered through. She would never understand the pain that still lives inside of me.**

**She enters the house silently and comes to the table for dinner. She sits down in her chair, in front of a large portion of pig meat.**

"**So how was your day today, Rose?" Peeta questions from across the table.**

"**Huh?" she asks, not paying attention.**

"**Your day? How was it?" Peeta repeats.**

"**Ummm, it was good," Rose replies, picking at her meat with a fork, wishing it was deer.**

"**Well, uh, that's good," Peeta stammers.**

"**Mine was great!" Macin exclaims. "Dad and me decorated so many cakes!"**

**Macin is twelve now. With his dirty blonde hair swept past his dark eyes, he looks just like a younger version of Peeta.**

"**I'm so glad!" I say to Macin, eyeing Rose as she picks up her knife. "Careful Rose, that's sharp, let Daddy cut it."**

**She looks up, shooting me a glare. Her eyes cut through me as if she knows something, and I'm terrified she does.**

**Silence falls over the dining room for a moment until I finally ask "Rose?" And I gulp down the pain that is already starting to settle in my throat.**

**There is only one thing I have kept from her her entire life, and it is impossible that she'd know about it. There's no way. But she wears an evil smile on her face and opens her mouth, eager to share her knowledge. **

**Her lips are just starting to form words, when the TV flickers on. President Paylor is staring at us through the screen. This is not unusual, because when she has an important issue to address, she just tells us over the television. It's never vital information, just updates on the country of Panem; severe weather forecasts, advances in the districts, power outages, always average news. I'm relieved to see her face now, because I am not the least bit prepared to explain the Hunger Games to my daughter. Not yet. But it looks like I'll have to. **

**President Paylor looks at us without any sorrow or regret. No pain in her eyes, just a smirk as if she's pleased with herself and says, "Greetings Panem. Let the 76****th**** annual Hunger Games begin."**

**At her horrifying words, I immediately black out, falling backwards in my chair, hitting my head on the floor. **

_**No. **_

**I see children. They are playing together in a meadow. It's covered in dandelions so I'm assuming it is early Spring. They look so happy, skipping, giggling, playing without a care in the world. I watch them for a moment and it gives me great joy, seeing them cheerful. I look down to my side and there is the most beautiful dandelion lying by my hand. I pick it up and stick it to my nose. The phenomenal smell fills my nose as I inhale. It's sweet and reminds me of childhood, before everything became so complicated. I stick it out in front of my eyes to admire it while I still have the chance. Something is peculiar about this flower though. I can't decide what it is, until I see blood running down my wrist.**

**I quickly flip the blossom over and it is covered in blood. I stare at the thick, red liquid in my hand and then back at my dandelion. Only it isn't a dandelion now, it's a white rose. I quickly throw it, trying to get away from its stench but I can't. The smell of blood is everywhere, engulfing me with every breath I take, seeping into my pores… and then I catch a glimpse of the frolicking children. One has a knife hidden behind his back. **_**Run!**_** I try to scream, but the word won't come out. No sound will come out of my mouth, not even a squeak and I can no longer breathe. I'm drowning. I can feel the liquid clogging up my air holes, but I'm not submerged. **

**The child is moving closer, in for the kill, and I can't warn them. I can't help the children in the field. I'm choking now. Gasping for air, but my insides are still trapped in the putrefying substance. I can't figure out what it is until it runs out of my mouth and down the side of my chin. I'm drowning in my own blood, just as President Snow did. The meadow has turned into a bloodbath now and I am useless. I can't protect them. I can only lie there, watching, dying.**

**My eyes shoot open. I'm lying in bed, not a pool of blood. I take deep breaths, thankful I still am able to. My heart is beating out of my chest and I'm drenched in perspiration. Relief quickly rushes through me. I was dreaming. Only, I have forgotten that my life is the actual nightmare. I have no time to panic. I have no time to cry. The only thing I can do is fling the covers off of me and run. I sprint to the den, and when I get there, there is a crowd of people staring back at me. Peeta, Effie, Haymitch, the kids. Right now the better alternative would be drowning in blood. **

**Effie is looking at me with pain in her eyes. She's pressing her lips together, trying not to cry. Peeta's face is buried in his hands and Haymitch stares at me in remorse. He's finishing up the bottle in his hand, and there are three more empty on the floor.**

"**Well?" I say in frustration. "Is no one going to tell me what's going on?"**

**My face is boiling and I feel like yelling at the top of my lungs, but I know I have to hold it in for the children's sake. Haymitch just looks at me and shakes his head, chugging down the last swig of the liquor. No one will answer me, so I go to Peeta.**

"**Who are they reaping, Peeta?" **

**He doesn't even bother to look up. I grab his shoulders.**

"**Who?!" I shout.**

"**Us," he replies.**

"**Us?" I ask in panic, "Who's us?"**

"**The victors," he says.**

_**Well that's not new**_**, I think. **_**We can get through this. It's just another Hunger Games. We can do this.**_

**Peeta's voice cuts into my thoughts.**

"**and their children."**

My dinner is now threatening to come up. I quickly turn to look at Rose and Macin. Rose is staring at the wall with fury in her eyes, and Macin is gazing at the floor. They can't be reaped. They don't even know what being reaped means. They're so delicate. This can't be happening.

"When is the Reaping?" I question in a quiet, shaky voice.

Peeta has still failed to look at me.

"Tomorrow."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**I cannot sleep the entire night. My eyelids refuse to get heavy, and all I can do is bawl. Peeta is holding me tightly; sniffling, comforting me.**

"**Why?" I weep. "Why our kids?"**

"**I don't know, Katniss," Peeta answers me in a quivering voice, "but it'll be okay. If they get reaped we'll just volunteer. We'll take their place."**

**He's right. There is no way for our children to be sent into the arena. They either reap us or we volunteer for them. It's simple. But what happens to the children who don't have a parent to fill their spot? I don't care who I have killed or what I have done, but I'll never sink so low as to kill a child. I wonder if Peeta is thinking the same thing, but I'm not going to ask. I am going to try my hardest to cherish probably the last night we will ever spend together.**

"I love you," I whisper to him.

"I love you too," he answers, and he finds my hand. Then we lie there, for the rest of the night, eyes open, fingers entwined.

The sun rises high in the sky on this dreadful morning. I have to force myself to get up, knowing that if I'm not in the town square by two o'clock, the peacekeepers, assuming there will be some, will come and kill me anyway. _Maybe they should kill me_**, I think, but I rule that thought out knowing that then there would be no one to go in for Rose. **

**I open the closet to retrieve my family's reaping clothes. I see the dress I wore when I was sixteen. **_**I'll just wear it again, for old time's sake**_**, I think bitterly, and when I pull it from the hanger, a smaller dress falls to the ground. Prim's. When I see it, I am not sad. I am livid. I pick it off of the floor and throw it back in the closet. The Capitol took my sister away from me, and they cannot have my children.**

**I storm out the door with the simple dress adorning my body, wearing my hair in the braid I always wear. It is not time to go to the town square yet, and I'm not going there. I pass all of the little shops with their shades shut and curtains closed. Maybe everyone is upset because of the reaping. Maybe they feel sympathy for my family.**

**I reach the place where the tall fence surrounding district twelve used to stand and cross into the woods. I hike for miles, and then I see our spot, the old rock ledge. It is no longer a dream. Today **_**is**_** reaping day. Only, today Gale will not be here to sound off about the Capitol with me. No. He's off at two, probably with a family of his own. I wonder if he is dreading the reaping just as much as I am. I wonder if he's even thinking about me. I'm not going to cry this time, though. I just stand there and study the boulder. Making a note of it in my memory, for this will be the last time I see it.**

**I don't exactly know how to say goodbye to a rock, but in my heart I know it is much more than that. It is where I spent many days with my best friend. It is the place I hunted to keep my family alive. It is my favorite place in the world. So I say goodbye to it in the most honorable manner I can. I hold the three middle fingers of my left hand to my lips, and then back at it.**

"**Thank you," I say almost silently.**

**It is probably two o'clock by now. I'm hoping Peeta has gotten the children ready. He probably knows that I couldn't bear to do it. I emerge from the woods, and sure enough there is a crowd of people waiting in the town square. **

_**One more time**_**, I think.**

**I take my spot in the roped off section, where I find Peeta, Haymitch, and the children. No one says anything. There is nothing to say. It seems like an eternity passes while we are waiting, but finally a young, chipper twenty-three-year-old walks onto the stage wearing a dress made completely of silver senquins that is entirely too revealing. Cornelias.**

"**Hello everyone!" she gushes. **

**Everyone already hates her. I know I do.**

"**I know all of you are probably a little upset at the Capitol right now," she fumbles over her words. "I mean I would be to, but rules are rules," she says, putting a big, fake frown on her face.**

**All of District twelve stares at the girl like she is an idiot.**

"**I hate it. I really do," she tries to persuade us, but we know that she could care less. This does not affect her in the slightest way. I can't believe how naive we've been. Winning the war… it was all an illusion. We will never be free of this living Hell. The Capitol will win and the districts will lose surely until the end of time. **

"**Umm, okay. Shall we get started?"**

**Silence**

"**All right. Ladies first," she says.**

**Usually at a reaping my heart is pounding and I feel anxiety but not this one. I know I am going back into the arena one way or the other so why should I be nervous? She lifts one card out of the bowl with her silver manicured nails. The other is left lying there alone.**

"**And the female tribute from district 12 is…" she pauses for dramatic effect, "Katniss Everdeen!" she squeals as if I have won a raffle. **

**No one claps. No one does anything except pierce the brainless girl with their eyes. I exit the roped off area and climb the stairs slowly to the stage for the third time now. As I'm mounting it, I think of all the children who are probably being reaped this very moment, the ones whose parents are dead, sick, or even too stubborn to volunteer. I'm thinking of the innocent ones who will be put into a death tournament with vicious adults. None of them have ever even seen a Hunger Games, how on earth will they handle this? I won't dare tell my children, but this will be my third and final Hunger Games. I have no intention of returning home. **

**I reach the top and look over the audience. Then I look beyond, to the mountains of my district.**

_**I'll see you soon, Dad.**_

**I can hear Cornelias's annoying voice buzzing in one of my ears, but I cannot make out any words she is saying. I don't care what she has to say.**

_**Please shut up. Please shut up.**_

**And finally, she does, but to my horror I hear a new voice and it's coming from the audience.**

"**I volunteer as tribute."**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

**I'm slipping into that state of mind when everything feels like a dream. My mind is tricking me. I'm in some parallel universe where I'm Prim and I'm the one that needs to be saved. I'm the one that gets volunteered for. The only thing that brings me back to reality is the sound of my heartbeat getting louder in my ear.**

**Rose begins making her way up the stairs and some peacekeeper is pushing me away. I can't move. My whole body is numb and my legs refuse to walk, so he drags me to Peeta, and I'm still in shock. I stand there like a deer stands before an arrow, frozen, totally incoherent to the world surrounding it. But I now begin to become more alert. Peeta is clutching my arm so tightly I think I might lose circulation. Am I falling? I must be, because I feel like I'm dangling right above the ground. I look at Rose taking her spot on the stage, and I can't hear anything. It's like I'm deaf. I cannot even hear Cornelias's irritating buzzing anymore. I can only hear the throbbing of my heartbeat pounding against the inside of my skull. Everything else is silent, and I notice something that makes the scenario even more daunting. Rose is wearing Prim's reaping dress. **

**I feel nauseous. I'm trying to speak but the words won't come out. I guess I'm trying to force myself to talk so hard that I force up an acidic substance in my throat. It burns terribly, but I find myself whispering, "Rose."**

"**Okay, well that was a turn of events wasn't it?"**

**My hearing must have returned because I once again hear Cornelias's obnoxious squeal.**

"**So tribute, how about you tell us your name," She gushes.**

**She holds the bedazzled microphone to my daughter's lips.**

"**Rose Mellark"**

"**What a pretty name! May I ask who you are volunteering for?"**

"**My mother," Rose says in monotone. **

"**Excellent! I'm sure she is very proud!"**

**Rose says nothing. Just stares into space. She won't even take a glimpse at me. Why is she doing this? She does not stand a chance in an arena filled with victors.**

"**Well, let's keep this show rolling!" Cornelias announces. "I will now be drawing from the boys' bowl."**

**She reaches into the transparent glass bowl and stirs around the three cards with her fingertips. She lifts one out and waves it in the air.**

"**And the male tribute representing district twelve is… Peeta Mellark!"  
**

_**No,**_** I think. **_**Don't leave me.**_

**He slowly releases his grasp on me and looks at me with pain in his eyes. His hands find my face and he gives me a long, desperate kiss. Then he presses his forehead to mine and whispers, "I love you, Katniss."**

**My heart drops. After all we have been through and all we have overcome, I am finally losing the boy with the bread. I know there is no hope of him coming back to me, because he will do everything in his power to keep Rose alive, even if it means killing himself. The Capitol is finally breaking me. They have finally won. Then without even thinking, I turn to Macin.**

"**Don't you dare volunteer!" I scold in a harsh voice I have never used on him before.**

**He shakes his head no in panic which reassures me. I am possibly losing my daughter. The Capitol will not have the pleasure of watching my son die, too.**

"**Peeta Mellark," Cornelias says, smiling, as Peeta joins her on the stage. "You are quite a legend when it comes to the games. Are you going to be winning your third games this year?"**

**She shoves the microphone in his face.**

"**Not this time," he says, choking on his words.**

"**Oh, I see, a family man. How sweet!"**

**My world is turned upside down. I'm panicking. I cannot think straight.**

"**Uh… Excuse me," someone from the crowd interrupts my thoughts.**

"**Yes?" Cornelias asks, confusedly.**

**I do not even bother to look at the citizen speaking. I'm too busy sinking down into sorrow, lower and lower.**

"**Yeah, uh, I'd like to volunteer," the person stammers.**

**I recognize this voice. It isn't the voice of my son. It's the raspy voice of a man. Someone volunteered for Peeta. I cock my head to the side quickly and catch Haymitch walking up the aisle to the stage. **

"**What are you doing?" Peeta asks Haymitch angrily as he reaches the top of the stairs.**

**I can tell by his voice that he is just as baffled as I am. Why would Haymitch take Peeta's spot in the games? But as he begins to speak, I finally understand.**

"**You can't leave Katniss," he tells Peeta in a hushed voice.**

"**I know but are you crazy?" Peeta questions aggressively**

"**Peeta, go. I know what I'm doing," Haymitch demands.**

**Peeta tries to continue the argument, but the peacekeepers pull him away and shove him back into the audience. I look at Peeta with teary eyes as he stumbles into me. Then I look up at Haymitch, taking his place on the stage. Although Haymitch is a drunken man who seems to hate the world, he really does have a heart of gold. Then, I think of Effie. Poor, tragic us.**


End file.
